


Irish Whiskey

by arazialotis



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, SPN 5x07
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 15:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arazialotis/pseuds/arazialotis
Summary: With the case taking longer than expected, Y/N jumps on the opportunity to blow off some steam with a flirtatious Irish gentleman and perhaps will have the chance to make a couple extra bucks while at it. But the case and seemingly simple poker game turns more complicated when the Winchesters come across a familiar face. (Patrick appeared in Supernatural Ep. 5 x 7)





	1. Chapter 1

Witches, you were sure of it; they are what brought you and the Winchesters to the town three days ago. But you were nowhere close. The case should have your full attention but you had become delayed by the sly Irish man sitting across the high top from you. His dark brown eyes were warm and inviting yet glinted with a shimmer of mystery and danger. You wanted nothing more than to run your hands through his flowing curls. And his voice, well his voice warmed your soul the way the Irish Whiskey you were both nursing burned on its way down.

Dean and Sam were both long gone by now. Dean with some chick… as always. But lying to yourself had become easier than entertaining the disappointment. And this man, was a very welcomed distraction.

“So Patrick, you from around here?” You asked, wondering if this handsome distraction could possibly give you leads.

“No, just passing through actually.” He twisted a toothpick in his mouth.

“Oh, what for?” You questioned taking another sip of whiskey.

He smirked still impressed you could handle it. “Poker. A tournament in fact. It’s really just a hobby but it makes a few extra bucks. You play?” He asked.

You chuckled. “Ah no. Tried to pick it up but, uh, I was sick of people wiping the floor with me, so I gave it up.”

“That’s too bad. I could give you a few tips, I’ve heard I’m a very good teacher.” He set his toothpick down and reached for a deck of cards in his coat pocket.

“I’m afraid a teacher is only as good as their student and I… I just can’t bluff.” You blushed.

He started shuffling the deck. “We’ll only go one round.”

“Okay,” You agreed flipping through your coin purse. “Well, if you are interested in lint, hotel keys, or gas station receipts… I’m your girl.” 

After he dealt the cards and he took a sip of his whiskey.“Your hotel key doesn’t sound too bad.” He smirked and slipped the toothpick back between his lips.

“Oh my god!” You hid your face in your hands. “That’s not what I meant!” You giggled.

“I know Y/N, I’m simply giving you a hard time.” He lightly chuckled. “I’ll give ya the first lesson for free.” He winked.

You squirmed in your seat, imaging this is what it must feel like to have Dean’s attention. “How kind of you.” You finished the glass and singled to the bar for another.

Patrick analyzed your move, trying to read more than just your poker abilities. “Texas hold‘em. You know how the game?”

“The mechanics. Yes.” You looked at your cards and winced.

He laughed and took back all the cards redealing. “You actually need to try and bluff.” 

“Okay, okay.. I’ll try.” You looked at your cards again and wiped your hand over your face, looking Patrick dead in the eyes. But you couldn’t hold the serious gaze and started to giggle.

“Yeah. You’re terrible.” He chuckled back.

‘“No, no. I’m going to try.” You diverted your gaze. “So..” You found a napkin and started writing down. “I will bet you my number.” You folded the napkin in half and set in the middle.

“I’ll call.” He wrote down his number as well, set it in the middle, and dealt the flop.

You had nothing, but you were trying your best to bluff. “I’ll bet you another round of whiskey.” You purposed.

“I’ll call, and raise you a date tomorrow night.” He offered.

“I’ll call.” Your toes curled. He turned and you’ve never seen a hand this bad.

“Umm…” You didn’t know what else to throw in. “Drinks after dinner?”

“And I’ll raise you my hotel key.” He twisted the toothpick.

You sighed. “… I gotta fold.” You saw his lip twitch in disappointment. “Listen, you are super attractive.” You silently cursed at yourself for being so blunt. Maybe the whiskey was getting to you. “But I’m not the kind of girl just to have a one night stand when I meet someone on the first night.” You anxiously stated.

“Well, technically it would be the second night, after the date and all…” He grinned.

You laughed back. “Okay, if I didn’t just ruin everything. Let see how tomorrow night goes… and maybe we can play another game.”

“I’m in.” He agreed.

After a few more drinks, you called it a night and walked yourself back to the hotel. The next morning, you woke up to pounding on the door and in your head. You stumbled over to the door, rubbing your eyes. Both boys stood outside your doorway, in their tailored and freshly pressed suits. They both furrowed their brows at you.

“Late night? That’s not like you.” Dean chided as he waltzed in.

“Shut up.” You left the door open so Sam could come in too.

“Y/N, it’s 11:15.” Sam stated.

You laid back down on the bed and put a pillow over your head.

“And you have the babies and brunch group in 30.” He continued.

“Babies and what?” You sat back up.

Sam rolled his eyes, exasperated. “I sent you details last night.”

“Essentially, all the desperate housewives from the suburb get together and gossip while they actively ignore munchkins whining and running around.” Dean explained condescendingly.

“Okay. Big flaw in your plan… no kid.” You pointed out.

“Congratulations, you’re expecting.” Dean snarked. “New to the neighborhood and looking for connections and advice.”

“Ugh.” You complained and shut the bathroom door to get ready.

Sam and Dean dropped you off at a way too trendy spot, for babies and brunch. You had in mind a McDonald’s with one of those playplaces. But no, in this place everything was robin’s egg blue or fairy dust moss color, and of course a ton of bird decor.

A woman perked up, smiling at you upon your entrance. You swore you could practically smell the chemicals radiating from her unnaturally white teeth.You bit your lip to avoid smiling as she crooned. “Ruthie darling, come join us.” ‘

Ruth was the identity Dean had come up with for you. You plastered on a fake smile and went up an octave more than you are used too. “Veronica? I’m so sorry to intrude but I am new to town and stumbled upon your blog…”

“Darling, darling.” She waved you over to the table. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.” You sat down in the free chair, putting your purse in your lap. “We are delighted to have you.” She greeted for the table around you. “I’d offer you a mimosa, but we want to keep that precious bundle of joy safe and sound.” The group laughed.

You politely chuckled and put your hand to your abdomen. “Yup, we are staying dry for another seven months.”

Veronica placed her hand on your shoulder. “It’s all worth it, Ruthie dear.”

The rest of the wives continued business as usual, gossiping about anyone and anything, complaining about their husbands, and willfully ignoring their children’s screams and overwhelming amount of bodily fluids. You tried to stay focused though on the pack leader. She would have the most information if there was a witch in the group.

“So, Veronica, which one of these little rascals is yours?” You looked around, eyes following the two boys running around the table playing tag.

“Oh sadly none, my children have all grown and moved away with no prospects of grandchildren.” She conveyed with sorrow.

“But you’re so young?” You blurted out in shock before you could catch yourself.

She chuckled. “Oh you’re too kind my dear. No, it’s true. That’s why I’ve started this group. So I can be a support to young mothers and get the joy from the children.”

At that moment, one of the boys playing tag tripped over his shoelace and collided with the ground. You looked to his mother who was already on her third mimosa and waved him off as he started to wail.

“There, there Sebastian.” Veronica called and snapped her fingers. He instantly stopped crying.

“… You’re so good with them…” You spoke, but the look on Sebastian’s face indicated he was more mortified than calm.

“It comes naturally dear, don’t you worry, it will come to you too.” Her phone buzzed and she jumped in her seat. “Oop, I’m running late for the salon. But we simply must continue our conversation. How does tomorrow for afternoon tea sound?”

“That would be so lovely.” You bordered on the edge of mocking her fake pleasantry.

“Wonderful, I’ll text you the details.” She stood up and blew a kiss to the rest of the group before waving. “Bye darlings.”

As soon as she left, Sebastian began crying again, raising your growing suspicion. His mother finally took notice and went to collect him.

The lady next to you bumped in. “Hey, don’t get too close, she can be a little overbearing.”

“A little overbearing?” The woman argued from across the table. “She’s worse than my mother-in-law.”

“I’m sorry… I guess I’m confused…” You stated.

Sebastian’s mother who was now packing up, piped in. “Sweetheart, she pays for the drinks so we come.”

That’s a little rude, you thought to yourself. Maybe your gut feeling was wrong.

“All I’m saying is, the doting on is fun for a while but pretty soon you’ll start to remind her of her daughter and she’ll send you to her estate in New Hampshire like the rest because.” The woman cleared her throat and gave her best impression. “‘They simply have far superior doctors in that region. I can’t have you giving birth in this primitive landscape.’” A few of the other women chuckled.

“I’m sorry, the rest?” You asked… then again your gut never steered you wrong before.

“Yes… a few months ago… what was her name..” The lady tried to recall.

“Casey!” One popped in. “And before that, the poor gal who was still in high school.”

You forced a lump from growing in your throat. The missing high school girl was what brought you out in the first place. “But never any of you?” You clarified.

“No she doesn’t want to pull us away from our families already here. I guess she just wants to make sure the ones who are alone feel cared for. It’s really not all that bad.” One lady passively argued.

“Okay, well thanks for the info, ladies… I’m going to get going though.” At this point you felt you had a solid case built up against her. It would be better to focus your energy on her rather than trying to suffer through another hour of gossip.

You set out down the street towards the downtown district, dialing Dean’s cell. “Hey. Suspect numero uno is going to send you details about a tea party tomorrow.”

“Why me?” Dean asked.

“Because you’re the one who set up this brunch thing in the first place, idiot…. I don’t want to raise suspicion by giving out a different number.” You explained. “Just forward it to me when she does, I’m headed to city hall to dig up any records I can.”

“We’ll meet ‘cha there.” Dean ended hanging up the phone.

After pouring through city taxes, housing records, and whatever else you could get your hands on, you were able to establish Veronica moved here twenty years ago with her husband Edward Marshe. Unfortunately, there was no mention of the kids she had spoken about. You discussed the babies and brunch meeting with the boys and they agreed that it was still worth investigating further. Perhaps tea would lead to some further details. Sam was planning to research more into this New Hampshire estate and the oversea investments that counted for most of their income.

You picked up your phone and gasped at the time, evening already setting in. “Shit guys, I gotta run.”

Sam and Dean shared a shocked look. “What for?” Sam asked.

“Card game.” You smirked.

“And you didn’t invite me?” Dean asked pretending to be offended.

“You’re a distraction.” You reminded.

“Because of my dashing good looks?” He teased.

“Oh of course.” You snorted. “Your fiery eyes, hard pecs, and boyish charm just makes me oh so weak in the knees I forget the difference between clovers and spades.” You teased even if there was a hint of truth to it.

“Shut up.” Dean waved you off. “Win it big time for us kid.”

“Drinks on me tomorrow night, boys.” You laughed before walking out with confidence. You had this Irish man right where you wanted him.


	2. Chapter 2

A quick stop at your hotel room allowed you to change. You threw on your pencil skirt, white silk blouse, and a jacket over top; which you would traditionally use for your FBI wear. Spending a few extra minutes on your makeup, you attempted to convert looks from single, expecting, and stressed out to fierce and confident. The red lipstick may have been overkill.

You parked a few blocks down and walked the rest of the way, the clicks of your heels echoing in the alleyways. Paces before the the restaurant, you stopped to get into character. You shook off any last nerves and cleared your throat.

“Patrick, I’m so sorry I’m late.” You sat down in a huff, immediately going for the wine menu.

“I was starting to worry.” He tipped his whiskey glass your way. “You clean up nice.” 

You sat the menu down. “Business I’m afraid.” You unbuttoned your jacket and slid it off revealing the sleeveless top. You already saw Patrick’s lips pressing together. You hid a smile as you placed the jacket over the chair’s back. “Doctors only agreed to see me after hours.” You explained turning back around.

“You’re a pill pusher then?” He asked.

“Oh, don’t say it like that.” You scoffed.

He raised his hands in defense. “I didn’t mean to imply anything.” 

“No, no. I know what you are thinking… marketing drugs in an already overmedicated population, and while I agree that prescriptions can be overused and not solve all problems; some people truly need and rely on them.” You pouted your lips and picked up the wine menu to conceal your smile having sold the story. “The world would be a lot simpler if we could merely make our problems disappear with magic.” You subtly vented, the case still on your mind.

Had you been paying attention to him instead of the reds section you may have been tipped off at the twitch of his eye. Throughout dinner you went through the motions with just the right amount of flirting, enough to be suggestive but still hard to get. The issue was, he was playing the same game. Anytime he sent that sly smirk your way, wiped the corner of his mouth, or played with that goddamn toothpick you couldn’t help but wonder if he had an oral fixation you could help mend. 

With dinner nearing its end, a second game still had not been discussed. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to play at this point. It had been ages since you had allowed yourself a night off; a true night off. What would be the harm in letting loose anyways? Your phone buzzed.

D: You got this tiger. Ready to celebrate tomorrow night.

You set your phone upside down on the table. Dean Winchester, always had to throw a wrench into your plans. Maybe this time you could win his approval. Maybe this time you would win his second glance. You’d still play Patrick nonetheless. Just needed to find a way to bring it up.

Both of you reached for the bill, but you were quicker. It was a small investment for a larger win tonight.

“I believe I owe you.” You remarked, fishing through your wallet.

“That was not my intention.” He argued. “Remember we were just playing for fun.” 

“Well, if we were never playing, I technically don’t owe you drinks after this.” You teased.

“I was just hoping you’d come along anyways.” He looked down, unsure of your answer. You pretended to ponder. “… I’ll buy. After all, I owe you for dinner.” He continued to press.

“Yeah, I could use another drink.” You smirked.

A block away and half a hour later, you were a drink and a half in and ready to make a move.

“So, you don’t happen to have another lesson in you?” You gently asked, nibbling a bit at your thumb.

“Ay, but it won’t be free this time.” He winked.

“Good thing I brought cash.” You licked your lips.

“No card keys then?” He pressed his together.

Oh, this guy was completely relentless. A loud crash at the bar grabbed both your attention but it was just some drunk imbecile being kicked out. You scanned the bar automatically assessing for other potential outbreaks until you caught glance of him. At first, it seemed like Dean, from the back at least. His arm was wrapped protectively around a college-aged girl. When the commotion was over, he laughed and ran his hand down her shoulder. He turned to signal a waitress for another drink and you got a better look at him; definitely not Dean but the point was not lost. Knowing him, he would be at another bar in the exact same situation.

You focused back to Patrick and impulsively changed your plans by setting your key down on the table. “Tell you what. First round we play for location. If you win, you get my key and vice versa.” You offered, knowing you needed to win.

Your pharm rep story wouldn’t match up to the cheap ass motel room you were staying in. Not to mention the numerous weapons and lore, it would be hard to pass off as a hobby. It was a gamble, but you thought you could take him. Otherwise, you’d make a switch. Last night you studied his deck and bought one of your own.

He squinted. “So just one round? Pure luck, then we get to decide what to do with the other’s key?”

You nodded to clarify.

“Yeah, alright.” He agreed and started shuffling his cards. He played through the turn, if you could make a switch you’d have four of a kind putting your odds much higher than his. “I’ll have to admit, it feels odd not betting.” He commented.

“Wait.” You asked before he played the river. “I’ll put in another wager…” He raised his eyebrow with interest. “If you win this round.. for our next game, instead of cash… we’ll bet with clothes…” You used the moment of shock to make your switch.

“You must have a very good hand.” He considered his options.

“Or I just know how the night is going to end.” You winked dishing it back out.

“Then can I wager the same?” He questioned.

“No, because then you will still win. You have to pick something I would like more than you would.” You reasoned.

“What do you like then?” He purred.

You ignored his implications. “… Milk duds, science fiction novels, and that thick accent of yours…” You shamelessly flirted.

“So just so I’m getting this straight, I’m putting a box of chocolates in the pool and you are betting strip poker?” He scoffed.

“Yeah.” You confirmed.

“I guess I don’t have much to lose then, and all the more to gain.” He flipped the river.

“We’ll see about that.” You laid down making your four with a wide grin.

“Ah that’s good…” He frowned looking at his cards. “But I’m afraid not good enough.” He laid down a straight flush.

You stood up in shock. “Have you cheated?!”

“No, of course not. I always play fair. You see Y/N, it’s not just about playing the cards, it’s about reading the people too…” He lectured.

I bloody know what it’s about, you thought, as your cheeks turned red.

“You can back out if you’d like dear.” He offered.

“A deal’s a deal…” You stood firm and you wouldn’t be bested by him again.

He grabbed your key off the table. “So… motel 7 then. Not even an 8?” He couldn’t contain a slight chuckle.

You had to walk yourself out of this one. “Oh yes, the finest establishment in all of Delaware. Four stars, overflowing with accommodations.” You sarcastically remarked.

“It’s that bad?” He asked.

You nodded. “A secretary booked it, company wide policy to save money I’m afraid.”

“In that case. Your key is coming with me to my room and if you want it back…” He waved it in the air before sliding it into is pocket.

He started to head for the door, but you pouted staying in place. He glanced back once before leaving through the door. You gave it a few minutes to simmer and than ran out after him. The hotel he led you to was extravagant to say the least. It was more than you were used to, the fact alone that it was over two stories not to mention the fountain in the lobby or the minibar in his room.

He brought over two glasses of whiskey. “So, how long you in town for?”

“Enough of the small talk, you owe me some clothes… Is that watch a Rolex?” You teased.

“Straight to business then… Are you sure you want to go through with this? It may be quite humiliating.” He egged on.

“For you, yes.” You fired back.

“Such confidence for a beginner.” He remarked.

You rattled the ice in your glass. “Consider this liquid luck.”

“Alright then.” He sat down at the table and pulled out the deck. “Your deal.” 

You walked past the table to sit at the edge of his bed, patting it down to signal for him to come join you. He eyed you cautiously but made his way over, handing you the cards before he sat down. You took the cards and forced them together in an ungraceful shuffle.

“Your words have no bearing.” Patrick teased.

“We’ll see about that.” You winked.

You brought your A game, painfully admitting to yourself it was harder than expected to beat him. He must be greatly experienced. But you made it look good. Taking a loss here or there and over animating when you would win, trying to throw him off as best as possible but still unsure if the act was solid enough.

“When did you learn to get so good?” Patrick suspiciously, yet amusingly inquired as he slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt.

You smirked, already planning your next move. “Well…” You quickly threw in your chips before he even had his shirt off. “I had a good teacher… and I’m a fast learner.” You took another sip from the glass. “Your move, Patrick.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You see…” He flipped a chip between his fingers. “I think you’ve been playing me this whole time.” It was almost as if you could see fire in his eyes. “I think you’ve always been a bluffer.”

Your lip twitched, feeling that dark sense of mystery dripping off him. “Yes, my whole grand scheme was just to get into your pants, when I could have had you on the first night.”

“There’s more to you than you let on.” He bet and dealt the turn.

“As is with everyone…” Your tongue grazed over your teeth. “But I’m just getting lucky tonight… check.”

“In more way than one.” He winked and tossed in his bet.

You blushed and called. “Besides…” You argued as he played the river. “If I was truly any good, I would have used my skills to rob you of all your money instead of your clothes.” You both placed the final bet.

The tension held as neither one of you dared to lay down your set. He, down to only his jeans and briefs, you still in a camisole and the same skirt you wore to dinner.

“It’s not fair you know.” He complained. “You have significantly more layers.” 

“You knew the conditions going into this.” You playfully bantered.

“How do you want to do this?” He asked, you both unsure of your hand.

“We both know how this is going to end, either way.” You egged on.

He nodded as both hands carefully glided down to the bed. His head tilted back in agony and your smile strained wide. Your two pairs of threes and fives beat out his pair of nines.

“Guess these stakes aren’t your forte.” You pressed your lips together waiting for him to continue. “What is it again, leave emotions at the door? No, no that wasn’t it…” You did your best to match his thick Irish accent. “It’s all about reading people.”

He sighed, fingers dancing over the hem of his jeans. “It is quite more distracting than I’m used to.” He licked his lips gazing at the loose strap gliding down your shoulder as you went to shuffle the deck. “Enough of the bloody cards.”

He closed the gap between you, his hand caressing your cheek and into your hair. Your heartbeats matched in rhythm as your lips hovered over each others. The cards cascaded from your hand down to the floor below. Patrick pressed his lips into yours, gently at first then all together firmly. You could taste a hint of whiskey on his breath. One hand was tangled in your hair, the other slipping under your camisole.

You greedily went for his jeans, unbuttoning them but failing to slide them down. He was busy printing his lips onto your neck but smiled into you at your failed attempt. He pushed your top up and over, and gently laid you down onto the bed.


End file.
